“You haven’t come to see me in too long, my lord,” the woman said dramatically. “At last, in far too long a time for me. I must know, so I can try to go on. Have you found another?”
She lay back on the couch, her filmy gown in artful disarray, one knee bent, her skirts rucked up to show her long legs. Her long dark hair was the only thing covering her shapely naked breasts.
“I seem to recall you said those exact lines the night I met you,” Leland answered, eyeing her with a smile.
She looked puzzled.
“You were in
She was diverted. “Yes, I was. Fancy you remembering that! And not even at the Haymarket, but at that little theater in Brighton. You never said! Is that why you looked me up when I came to London?”
“No. In London, I looked up at the stage, saw you again, and knew Fate had been kind,” he said, his hand on his heart.
“Aye, well,” she said, sitting up. “It was a good line, and it applies now though, don’t it? You’re done with me, are you?”
He shrugged. “Not ‘done,’ surely. That sounds so fatal, so
She grinned. “Aye, that it was. But for all that, the truth is that I liked being with you. At first I didn’t know what to expect, because you act so fancy. But you’re funny, and fun to be with, and clean, too. And you know your way about a girl, in every way, don’t you? Some gents are a trial, and some are just rude pigs, but you made sure to give as much as you got, and I’m grateful for it. I know a likely lad or two willing to keep me company when I’m not working, so I like meeting a gent I can imagine might be one of them. Combines business with pleasure, so to speak, but it’s rare. So thanks.”
He smiled. She’d never said so much at one time before, and her new, less theatrical personality was charming. It was too bad she’d decided to be herself with him only when he’d decided to be rid of her. But her few weeks were up. He never kept a mistress longer. It became too hard to forget he was paying for her company. That was why he didn’t visit brothels, either.
But he did so enjoy sex with a warm, willing partner. There was nothing like the feeling of a female body pressed to his own, nothing to make him feel more connected to another being, and not just in body. Ecstasy was the goal, but so was the feeling, for a few minutes, that he was no longer alone, that he was part of something more.
He had few acceptable outlets for such intimacy. Though he loved the act, he was fastidious. A stupid woman with a magnificent body attracted him no more than a fine-looking filly might. He didn’t desire a healthy animal; his partner had to have brains as well as beauty. If a woman was educated, he was willing to settle for less beauty. But most educated women were of his own class, and they weren’t available to him. He wouldn’t conduct affairs with married women, as so many men of his rank did. Nor could he with his social inferiors, however smart or beautiful they might be. They needed marrying, it was only fair, and he always tried to be a fair man.
He didn’t want to marry, certainly not after what he’d seen of the institution of marriage in his own life. Even so, he’d loved once or twice, and lost both times: once to a fellow with a higher title, and once to one with worse intentions. True, he’d never actually asked either lady to be his wife, but he’d been working up to it.
He had the reputation of a predator. He agreed with that, because he’d read that wolves spent more time looking for prey than actually devouring any. It was a wonder they survived. He often thought the same about himself.
“Want to stay for a cuppa, at least?” his soon-to-be ex-mistress asked perkily. “I’ve got a teakettle; I’m not the only thing here that’s hot, you know.” She laughed. It did wonderful things to her half-clad body.
His smile changed. He cocked his head and looked at her with interest.
She saw it. “Ah, why not?” she asked, reaching her arms out to him. “You’ve paid enough. This one’s my treat, my lord. Let’s see how different that makes it.”
It was late afternoon; he’d come to settle matters with her because he’d seen someone more interesting. But her smile was genuine, and her welcome was as well. That was a novelty, and therefore, irresistible.
“Yes,” he said as he sat. He ran a slow hand through her glossy hair and watched it slide through his fingers. He felt the peak of the silken breast beneath the silken mane rise to his hand.
“Yes, thank you very much,” he breathed as he bent to her.
“My lord,” his butler said as Leland came in the door. “You’ve a guest waiting for you, in your study.”
Leland looked up with interest. His butler was trying to conceal a smile. Then his guest had to be someone he knew well. Geoff? He strode to his study and saw the young gentleman who was waiting for him: a lean fellow of middle height, with regular features except for his long, aristocratic nose. His hair was jet, his smile was a startling slash of white in his face because he was dark as a Gypsy, though his eyes were as cobalt blue as his host’s.
“Daffy!” Leland exclaimed.
“Lee!” the young man said, rising to his feet. “About time you came home! What have you been up to? Oh, the devil, who cares? Good to see you!”
The two men embraced, then thumped each other on the back.
“Sit, do sit down,” Lee said, stepping back and examining his guest, “Lord! Look at you!”
“Look at what?” the other asked, confused.
“You’re
“Yes,” Daffyd said with a lopsided grin, “for once, brother, I won’t argue. If I’d known what a wedding would do for me, I’d have done it years before, if I could have, but I only met my lady by luck, so I couldn’t… Good God! Listen to me, I’m babbling.”
“Good,” Leland said. “Now sit. Babble to me. Tell me everything, the how and why of being happy.”
Daffyd did, at length. He talked about how the renovations on the estate he’d bought were going, the way his lady was planning her garden, the problems with servants, from masons to housemaids. The only reason Leland’s eyes didn’t assume their familiar half-lidded bored expression was that he was genuinely happy for his half brother. Born of the same mother, Leland was an eldest son and heir to title and fortune. Daffyd was the illegitimate result of his mother’s fling with a wandering Gypsy, abandoned by her at birth and heir to nothing but hard work.
The two had met as adults and found they shared more than dislike for their mother’s coldness. They had the same quick wit, and for all the different upbringings, the same scruples. Both could also summon irresistible charm if needed: they’d had to in order to survive their equally difficult childhoods.
Finally Daffyd stopped talking and smiled sheepishly. “I’m a dead bore now, right? Serves you right for asking.”
“No, I let bores know when they fill me with ennui. It’s my specialty. I was actually listening. I’m pleased things are going well for you and Meg. Where is she, by the way?”
Daffyd’s smile was brilliant. “You’re the first to know. She’s home because she couldn’t stand traveling; she’s too busy being carriage sick on land that doesn’t move. Lee, she’s expecting our baby in the summer! That’s really what’s got me babbling. Me, a father! Can you believe it?”
“I can, and a damned fine one you’ll be. Congratulations!”
“Not yet!” Daffyd warned him. “Too soon. My Gypsy grandmother would have your head for saying that. When the babe cries out for the first time, telling us his name,
“I’ll be sure to be there to hear it, if I’m invited.”
“As if you wouldn’t be! I came to London to tell you and Geoff. I’ll ride out into the countryside to tell Amyas and Christian, when I’m done here. Letters are for you
“When did you last hear from Geoff?” Leland asked quietly.
Daffyd’s eyes flew wide; he sprang from his chair. “What? He’s sick? I didn’t know!”
